


Oblivious

by ItinerantAvthor



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Everyone ships them, Flirtatious Spock, Fluff, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Oblivious Jim, Romance, Space Exploration, Spock is trying to be romantic, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItinerantAvthor/pseuds/ItinerantAvthor
Summary: In which Jim Kirk is completely oblivious to Spock's romantic overtones, and Spock grows increasingly frustrated.





	Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> Have you accepted oblivious Jim Kirk into your life as your lord and savior? Because I have, and it's all I can think about. This is kind of a 5 + 1 fic, except that there's just 5 parts so? It's not really like that at all, actually. Thanks for reading! Come find me on tumblr, bllbabaggins, so we can yell about these sweet dorks.

Jim stretched in the Captain’s chair. Another quick Beta shift for the books with nothing more interesting than a passing meteorite and a quick message from Admiral Pike to tell him that he did a good job on that last mission report. As he headed for the turbolift, he saw Spock out of the corner of his eye be relieved by Lieutenant Bh’ret. He held the door for his First Officer. 

They stood in silence until the lift brought them to Deck Five. When they entered the hallway to their quarters, Spock turned to him slightly.

“Jim, would you care to play chess in my quarters this evening?” he asked, his voice low.

“I’d love to, Spock,” Jim beamed. “Give me an hour to finish this report and shower?” 

Spock nodded. “I will see you in an hour, Jim.” 

They parted ways. Jim could have sworn he saw Spock turn his head to look at him before he entered his room, but he was gone before he could make sure. He shook his head and started on that report, finishing with fifteen minutes to spare. With a quick shower and a change of clothes, Jim stood before Spock’s door almost five full minutes early.

When Spock called for him to enter, Jim squinted in the low light. There were holocandles scattered around the room and special incense on a burner near the bed. Spock stood by the chess table wearing simple, black Vulcan robes. Jim averted his eyes, trying not to stare.

“Uh, are your lights not working properly, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked. Oddly, he felt underdressed in his sweatpants and old T-shirt, even though it was his usual outfit for an after-shift game of chess. 

Spock tilted his head and considered the lights. “They are functioning adequately,” he replied. “Would you like it lighter, Jim?” 

Jim shivered. He loved it when Spock called him by his name instead of by rank.

“Nah, it’s - it’s nice,” he said, meeting Spock’s eyes. There was almost - yes, a smile there, playing along the lines of his eyes and forehead. 

Spock indicated that Jim should take a seat, then offered him a glass of wine from the replicator. Jim raised an eyebrow in surprise, a near facsimile to Spock’s own patented expression.

“I thought Vulcans didn’t drink,” he said, sniffing the glass. He tried not to grimace. Replicated alcohol was something he just couldn’t get used to. 

“We do not,” Spock replied, sitting across from Jim on the black side. He tilted his head at the board to encourage Jim to begin.

“Aw, you did it for me?” Jim teased, shifting one pawn forward. 

It was probably just a trick of the light, but Jim thought there was a slight blush on Spock’s cheeks. “Yes,” he answered simply.

They played in silence after that. Jim won after nearly an hour of play, and grinned as Spock gracefully tipped his King. 

“An excellent, if illogical, game,” he said, another near-smile on his face.

Jim laughed. “You’re one of a kind, Mr. Spock,” he said, standing. “Thanks for this chess date. It was fun.” 

Spock stood as well, staring intently at Jim. “Date?” he asked softly.

“Oh,” Jim stumbled over his words, cursing his stupid use of human expressions. “Sorry, it’s just an expression. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Spock.”

Maybe it was the flickering holocandle light, but Jim thought he looked… sad. 

“It is of no consequence, Jim,” he said, and walked Jim to the door. He reached out a hand to Jim’s, just missing it as the Captain moved toward the hallway. Jim paused outside the door.

“What is it, Spock? Did you forget something?” he asked. 

Spock wrenched his hand behind his back quickly, as if burned. “No, Captain,” he said stiffly. “Good night.”

# *****

“I can’t believe you got Pointy to go on shore leave,” Bones muttered. They stood in the transporter room, patiently waiting for their turn to beam planetside. Spock pretended as if he hadn’t heard, but Jim saw his ear twitch.

He just chuckled and patted Bones’ arm. “What are you doing on your time off, doctor?” he asked, looking significantly at the overstuffed duffel at Leonard’s feet.

“It ain’t time off if you’re workin’, jerk,” Bones huffed. “I’ll be at this stupid conference from dawn to dusk the entire week.”

“It truly is a pity that you must bear the burden of sitting in a medical conference for four hours a day, doctor,” Spock said solemnly. They shuffled forward in line. 

“Just ‘cause the sun rises late and goes down early -”

“Do not tell me that Starfleet Academy neglected your astrophysical education, Leonard,” Spock said, raising an eyebrow. “Surely you must know that the sun is a steady influence and Jekar is mobile, turning on its axis at a rate -”

“Oh, fuck you very much,” Bones snapped, and Jim forced himself to not laugh at his friends as they bickered in front of the transporter pad and a weary-looking Ensign. 

“Three to beam down, please, Jacobs,” Jim said, stepping up to the pad. Ensign Jacobs nodded and gave him a thumbs up. 

“Have a good leave, Captain,” she said as they disappeared in a haze of gold.

When they arrived on the planet’s surface, amidst the tourist crowds and an ancient city built of stone, Spock and Jim parted ways with the doctor to find the hotel they’d be staying in. Jim took Bones’ bag while he went to the medical conference to register and schmooze with the other geniuses. 

“I’m sure it’ll be a real drag to hang around people who are interested in your work and eat and drink well,” Jim said sarcastically. Bones just hoisted his bag into Jim’s arms and stalked away, muttering under his breath.

They found the hotel easily, and after Jim deposited Bones’ things in his room, he found his own. It was quite spacious, and he invited Spock in while he unpacked a few things.

“What are you gonna do with your afternoon, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked, cheerily throwing open the biggest window. In flowed a cool, tropical breeze on the night air - sixteen more hours until sunlight.

“I do not know,” Spock said. When Jim looked over his shoulder, Spock seemed unusually interested in the hem of his Science uniform. “And yourself?” 

Jim shrugged and flopped onto the huge bed. “I kinda just wanted to go shopping today,” he said. “You know, see what’s out there, explore a little. I’m sure there’re all kinds of cool hole-in-the-wall places around here.”

Spock grunted in acknowledgement. Jim peeked up at his First.

“You wanna come with?” he asked with a grin. Spock pretended to think about it for a moment before acquiescing. Jim’s grin widened.

They walked out of the hotel and marveled at the incredible amount of light in the city. There were strands of lights everywhere, strung up with festive colors and bright pulses. Even though the sky was dark and Jim could see stars for miles, it felt like any day on any Earth colony. 

“It’s awfully romantic,” Jim observed as they made their way down the street. He looked over at Spock, whose cheeks were tinted green.

“Indeed,” was all he said in reply. 

They meandered for a few miles; Jim stopped every so often to marvel at the knick knacks in window fronts, often pulling Spock along to stare in wonder at the many amazing things on the shelves. Once, Jim thought that Spock’s gaze rested on him when he commented on the beauty of a particular vase, but when he turned back to get Spock’s opinion, he was staring intently at the shelf above it.

Spock started at a loud gasp from Jim. He saw the First Officer reach for a non-existent phaser before reassuring him that that he’d only spotted a second-hand bookstore and had gasped in pleasant surprise, not heart-wrenching horror. He pulled the Vulcan in after him by the hand, unsure why Spock’s fingers twitched helplessly in his eager grip. He forgot about it as he shuffled into the first row of bookshelves.

“A fiftieth anniversary edition of _The Jarmaker_ , Spock!” he breathed, looking up at him from his crouched position with bright eyes and a wide smile. 

“So little time and you have already found a gem,” Spock replied softly, watching him.

“And here - look, _Moby Dick_. God, I’d forgotten what a monster of a book that is,” Jim grunted, barely acknowledging Spock’s comment. He hefted the thick tome and thumbed through its pages.

They spent nearly three hours in the shop. Jim picked out book after book that he wanted to take home, but sadly put back every one. There was simply no room aboard the Enterprise for the stack Jim wanted.

When they finished their tour of the small bookshop, Jim looked around sadly. He’d wanted so badly to find a book that he could justify buying, but none of them sang to his soul. He sighed, resigned to going back to the hotel for the night, when he heard Spock clear his throat.

“Jim, have you seen this one?” he asked, holding out a book for Jim to inspect. 

It was called _Lovers who Love_ , an anthology of romantic poetry from across galaxies, written in seventy-two languages (and all translated into Standard). Jim brushed his hand across the cover in solemn awe. He flipped through the pages, landing on one particular poem that made his chest ache.

_In golden sunrise my vows_  
_Wash over you, Fountain-like,_  
_And the stars bear my promise_  
_Of Love Everlasting to the end of time._  
_Beauty mine,_  
_I will wait for you._  
_Lover mine,_  
_I will wait for you._

“Spock,” he breathed, looking up from the page. Spock stared at him intensely, brow furrowed as when he was trying to solve a complicated problem. “How’d you know?”

Spock blinked. “Know, Jim?” he asked.

“This poem,” he said, dropping his gaze to its stanzas once more. “It’s Orion, originally, and this is kind of a mediocre translation, but - God, I haven’t heard this one in years. My mom had it framed in our house growing up. It was part of my parents’ wedding ceremony. I’d forgotten about it until you handed it to me. Thank you, Spock,” he said earnestly, eyes welling up with tears.

Spock’s face was difficult to read. 

“Ah,” he said. “Perhaps it would please you to take it back to the Enterprise with you.” 

“God, yeah, it would, but this thing probably costs a fortune -”

“Do not worry yourself, Jim,” Spock said gently, handing the proprietor his credit chip.

Jim’s eyes widened. “I can’t let you do that, Spock,” he protested, still clinging to the book of poetry.

“You do not have to let me do anything, as I choose to do it of my own free will,” Spock answered.“It would please me if you considered it a gift, Jim.” 

Jim stared down at the book and nodded. “Thank you,” he said. 

Spock’s eyes softened as he murmured “Thanks are illogical,” and steered them out the door and back to their hotel.

# *****

“Spock to Enterprise,” came the First Officer’s crisp voice over the intercom. 

“Enterprise here,” Jim answered, lounging in the Captain’s chair. 

“Zoological, geological, and botanical teams are finished with their readings, Captain,” Spock said. “Eight to beam up.”

“Standby,” Jim ordered, and left the conn to Sulu, making his way swiftly to the transporter room. 

The away team, a mishmash of eight crewmembers, including both Spock and Uhura of the senior bridge crew, stood beaming and chattering on the transporter pad when he arrived - excepting, of course, the ever stoic Vulcan. The youngest ensigns, two twins from the zoological and botanical teams, were in the middle of the medley, proudly holding up a flailing plant-like… _thing_ , was the best word Jim could come up with. It was long and vine-like, but it moved of its own power. Jim even heard what sounded like faint wailing or whimpering.

“Ensigns Kavarra, what is that?” Jim asked, with a carefully neutral look on his face. Of course he wanted to be excited about a new find, but if his crew had brought aboard a sentient being against their will - but no, he thought, looking at Spock. The stern and compassionate First Officer would never let something like that happen.

Two pairs of bright yellow eyes turned to him at the same time. “Captain!” cried one, while the other thrust the thing under his nose.

“It’s a _Sciocopulous Terraineious_!” crowed the twin who did not hold the plant. “We just named it! It’s brand-new!”

“It’s a sentient plant-life. Can you hear it? It’s speaking to us!” said the other, bringing the plant even closer to Jim’s face.

“Ensigns Kavarra,” barked Lieutenant Commander Li. “Take the _Sciocopulous Terraineious_ out of the Captain’s face and into the botany labs if you value your jobs.”

The twins, unfazed by the threat, simply giggled and chattered their way out of the transporter room, holding the squealing plant close. Lieutenant Commander Li apologized profusely to Jim before scurrying after the carefree siblings.

Jim looked over at Spock, amused. 

“Well, Mr. Spock,” he said with a smile. “What else have we found down there?”

“An incredible array of flora and fauna,” Spock replied, “all of which will be documented in the away team’s report, sir.” 

Jim beamed and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent!” he said. “I can’t wait to read your report.” Then he blinked, frozen. “I can’t believe I just said those words out loud,” he muttered.

“I shall take care that Doctor McCoy does not hear of them, Captain,” Spock assured him. He stepped off the transporter pad with his hands behind his back. “Actually, there was one more thing, Jim.”

He brought his hands before him; in his fingers were clasped delicate-looking flowers, petals pale pink and fuzzy, light purple veins running through. It was a beautiful bouquet, and they smelled dazzlingly like sunshine and fresh water and mountain air. Jim breathed deeply and took them reverently from his First Officer.

“Spock, these are beautiful,” he murmured, bringing them to his face. Upon closer inspection, the leaves and stalks of each flower were pale and translucent, allowing him to see nodules of water and the spidery veins inside that carried water from one part of the plant to another.

He looked up in time to see Spock and Uhura exchanging significant glances.

“Where did you get them?” he asked, smelling them once more. 

“They are quite numerous on the ground,” Spock answered. “I thought, since you were unable to join the away team, that you would enjoy these as a substitute.” 

Jim grinned into the flowers. “I certainly do, Mr. Spock,” he said. “And I know just what to do with them! Scotty was feeling down the other day because the admiralty dismissed his request for an upgrade. I’ll put them in water and give them to him when he’s on his lunch break.”

He might have missed it had he turned even a second sooner. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spock’s face fall, and Uhura put out a comforting hand onto his arm. But no sooner than he looked back to see what the issue was, they both stood on the transporter pad as before, hands behind their backs.

“Anything the matter?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

Uhura shook her head vehemently and Spock answered stonily, “No, Captain.” 

Jim glanced back and forth at them again. “You’d tell me if something was wrong though, right Spock?” he asked.

Spock’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly, but he said, “Yes, Captain.” 

Jim smiled at him and said, “See you tonight for chess?” 

Uhura looked very much like she was trying not to stare at Spock. 

“Of course, Jim,” Spock replied softly. 

Jim walked out of the transporter room, stuffing his face into the bouquet of delicate flowers, breathing in their scent for as long as possible.

# *****

Brief flashes of painful, bright light punctured his consciousness, accompanied by shrieking and screeching that seemed to come from a long way off. Jim thought he could sometimes distinguish voices through the harsh cries. There was only one he could put a name to: Spock’s voice, low and soothing, murmuring words he couldn’t quite hear but were meant to comfort. 

“Spock,” he whispered, slipping back into the void of unconsciousness. 

When he awoke once more, the bright lights were dimmed and the screaming voices were silenced. Jim could breathe easily again. Taking stock of his body, Jim slowly became aware of dull pain in his right side and all down his left leg. There was also a cool breeze on his left temple, near his ear, and a slight whirring that indicated some kind of machinery was working.

“How’s he doing?” a low voice asked, and Jim wanted to scrunch his nose and say _I’m right here, you can talk to me,_ but he found that he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t move or speak, and at first it scared him, scared him to death, but after a moment of contemplation he realized that Bones probably hooked him up to some heavy sedatives.

“He is settled,” a second voice said wearily. “Doctor McCoy had to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation twice during surgery, but I believe Jim is, as humans say, ‘out of the woods.’”

Jim tried to concentrate on identifying the voices. Names nagged at him from the back of his mind until he pinpointed the first one - Uhura - just as she spoke again.

“That’s good to hear. And how are you?” 

“Adequate,” came the brusque second voice. 

“Really?” Uhura asked flatly. There was some rustling as she sat next to the second speaker.

“Affirmative. I was not harmed in the first or second explosions. The Captain saved my life.” The already low voice became even quieter.

“Spock,” Uhura said tenderly. And then Jim realized - Spock! _It’s Spock! The First Officer of the Enterprise, and I’m the Captain, and - oh, what had happened on that away mission?_

“What happened?” Uhura asked, echoing Jim’s own question.

Haltingly, Spock told of the civil war they had errantly stepped into, and the rebels who protected them in a vast network of underground caves. Unfortunately, the rebel leader was also a spy for the monarchy, and led the group of outworlders into a trap, a trap that Jim had sensed moments before the tunnel they were huddled in collapsed.

“He threw himself on top of me,” Spock whispered. “He saved my life, Nyota.” 

“Oh, Spock,” Uhura said once more. They sat in silence for another minute. Time stretched before Jim as he recalled all that happened. Spock’s story was so familiar, but there was a veneer of unreality about it, as if he was listening to a story he knew by heart but which had happened to someone else.

After a few moments the machine whirring in his ear slowed to a low hum, and then stopped altogether. There was movement over his face, and then a gentle touch over the shell of his ear, up his temple, across his forehead. He wasn’t quite sure, but Jim thought there was the softest press of lips against the bridge of his nose for just a moment. 

Uhura spoke from beside him. “Is he going to be alright?” she asked.

“Yes,” Spock said. It sounded like he settled back in to the chair by Jim’s side. “His eardrum and outer ear have been healed by a dermal regenerator. The other injuries simply need time.” 

Another stretch of silence, and then someone stood. 

“Get some rest, okay?” Uhura asked. Jim heard footsteps recede.

Spock sighed - so very un-Vulcan, he never usually did that, did he? - and Jim felt the biobed shift minutely as his First Officer leaned against it. Jim wanted so badly to turn to Spock and apologize for making him worry, to tell him he didn’t need to stay, but a heavy wave seemed to draw him down and down and down. 

There was a brush against his wrist, a minute touch he almost missed, and then Spock was turning his palm in both of his hands. A shiver ran through Jim’s arm, pleasant and sweet in a way that he wanted to explore further, but his mind was just so fuzzy and blank, and Spock’s fingers were so cool against his warm skin. Jim slipped back into sleep, dreaming about the Vulcan’s low, calming voice in his ear.

Jim startled awake out of a nightmare. He breathed heavily, whimpering in the darkness of sickbay, still feeling the heavy rock and dirt pile on top of him, smothering his voice and breath. He leaned against soft pillows and closed his eyes. When his heart slowed and he no longer felt adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Jim opened his eyes once more and oriented himself.

He was hooked up to a few different monitors and IVs, but the ache in his body was mostly gone. There was very little light to see by; even so, Jim could see a dark silhouette to his right, practically laying on the bed with him. 

“Spock,” Jim whispered. He didn’t want to wake him; in fact, he hadn’t even meant to speak out loud.

The Vulcan didn’t move, apparently too deep in sleep. Jim smiled tiredly and closed his eyes, thankful to have someone nearby. A moment later he opened his eyes again, a questioning furrow between his brows. What was that feeling near his hip?

It took an embarrassing amount of time to realize that what he was feeling was Spock holding his hand. In fact, he wasn’t just holding Jim’s hand, but cradling it between both of his. Jim smiled and chuckled to himself, but clung tighter to the fingers wrapping around his palm. He settled back into the bed and allowed himself to relax. Spock was here. It would all be okay.

# *****

Jim squirmed in front of the mirror. He was dressed in his nicest civilian clothes, slacks and a sweater that he protested was too old-mannish but which his mother had insisted he bring along. It wasn’t uncomfortable, per say, but he’d much rather be in jeans and an old Academy T-shirt, to be perfectly honest. 

Yet, how could he say no? It was, after all, Spock’s idea. He replayed the conversation in his head for the thousandth time.

_The turbolift doors opened on deck three, revealing Spock in his science uniform. He blinked at Jim in his sweaty gym clothes._

_“Captain,” he greeted, inclining his head._

_Jim grinned and joined him on the lift, still panting slightly and shiny with sweat._

_“Spock, we’re both off duty,” he said, “just call me Jim.”_

_A moment of silence passed, then another; then, suddenly:_

_“Jim, would you please accompany me on Vulcan for a dinner?”_

_Jim blinked at his First Officer. “A dinner?” he asked._

_“Indeed.”_

_“Like, a date dinner?”_

_Spock dropped his gaze to the floor, apparently finding his shoes fascinating._

_“Affirmative.”_

_“Yeah, sure, buddy, I’d love to,” Jim said warmly, clapping Spock on the arm. “What time do you want me to be ready?”_

He shook his head. He didn’t know why he had jumped at the chance to be Spock’s wingman. Jim had only just started to realize that what he felt for his First Officer had slowly but surely crept from the platonic to romantic. It was all kinds of inappropriate, he knew, but Spock was so special to him, and he really did love having him as a friend. Still, being a good friend meant putting aside selfish, romantic feelings that were clearly unreciprocated so that Spock could have a good date with whomever he was meeting planetside.

Jim suspected that it was Uhura. It didn’t quite make sense why he would need Jim there, since both the First Officer and the Lieutenant worked together well and often, but he understood having illogical nerves before a date. Or maybe it was another Vulcan that Spock was dining with, and he wanted Jim to be there to support him if it went sideways, like it had with T’Pring. Jim shuddered. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

At exactly 1900 hours, the buzzer sounded at Jim’s door. When it swished open, Jim practically gaped at the sight. Spock stood ramrod straight, arms folded at his waist. The deep purple of his robes, offset by subtle silver trim, made Spock’s sable eyes shine all the brighter. Jim had to take a deep breath to get ahold of himself.

“Ready?” he managed.

Spock inclined his head, taking Jim in, too.

“You look… well,” Spock finally said as they started down the hallway.

“Thanks. And you also,” Jim said, aiming for friendly and landing decidedly in cringey.

They were silent until they arrived at the transporter room. Scotty was stationed by the control panel, ready to beam them down to Vulcan’s surface. 

“Good luck,” Scotty winked at them. Jim frowned, confused, but before he could speak they were on firm ground in sweltering heat. Spock leaned in close to Jim, murmured in his ear, “this way,” and, with a steady, warm hand on his lower back, lead Jim through the busy Vulcan streets.

His jaw hit the floor when they entered the stately Vulcan restaurant. Sure, they could say they were all about logic, but Vulcans were also incredibly obsessed with style and aesthetic. Red, draping curtains cascaded down from the ceiling to the floor, muffling sound. Candles - real candles, not just holocandles - were stationed everywhere. Above them, enormous chandeliers of detailed craftsmanship swung gently side to side, setting precious stones into a tinkling tizzy. 

A stiff host walked them to a cozy table near the back, with a window view of Shikhar that dazzled Jim. He was about to ask why there wasn’t a third chair when he realized: he wasn’t going to sit at the table with them the entire date. Spock would want him to be close by, just in case it went south; but also, just in case it went really well, he wouldn’t want Jim right there. Jim felt his cheeks flush and his stomach drop, but he sat anyway, leaving the chair backed up enough so he could easily get to his feet when Spock’s date showed up.

Spock lifted an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment on it. _Shit_ , Jim thought, sweat beading on his forehead, _should I have just gone ahead and sat at a different table to start off with? Am I more nervous about this date than Spock is?_

A waiter in heavy black robes set a bottle of water and two menu PADDs on the table. Jim flushed ever so slightly. He felt underdressed and hypervisible as the only Human in the entire restaurant. 

Still, Spock set him at ease, asking him about some minor repairs Scotty was doing down in engineering and the upcoming mission the admiralty was sending them on. Jim hit his conversational stride just as the waiter returned, wanting their decisions.

“Oh, not yet,” Jim said, turning a blinding smile to the tall Vulcan looming over him. “We’re waiting for someone.”

Both Vulcans blinked at him, and then the waiter was gone. Spock frowned.

“For whom are we waiting, Jim?” he asked.

“Your date,” Jim said with false cheer. He took a sip of the water that sat untouched before him and grimaced. Vulcan water had a definite chalky taste to it.

“My date,” Spock said flatly. His hands rested on the table. Jim saw them twitch slightly.

“Yeah, with Uhura or whoever,” Jim said, leaning back in his seat. A passing maitre d’ tipped him forward so that his chair was no longer on two legs. 

“Uhura or whoever,” Spock repeated again. “Why would I be on a date with Uhura or whoever, Jim?”

Shrugging, Jim fiddled with the cloth napkin that sat on the plate before him. “Well, I mean, you and Uhura have been pretty close lately,” he muttered. “But I didn’t know if maybe you were meeting another Vulcan here -”

“Jim, I -” Spock stopped himself. Jim looked up, only to see impatience playing across his friend’s features. “Have I been unclear with you, Captain?”

“Unclear?”

“I have been attempting to court you for two point nine months. All previous attempts have either been rejected or too ambiguously received to count as data points.”

Jim’s mouth hung open. “You what?” he croaked.

Spock’s nose twitched. “If I had reason to believe my feelings were… unrequited,” he began uncomfortably, but Jim held up a hand.

“Whoa, hold your horses, Spock,” he said, leaning forward as if to cross the table. Spock opened his mouth and Jim waved off his protests. “It’s an expression. It’s not unrequited, I just… didn’t know.”

“James, with all due respect, I have not exactly been subtle,” Spock said drily.

“Oh yeah? What have you tried?” 

After listening to Spock explain, in excruciating detail, all his attempts to woo Jim, he had to admit that no, Spock hadn’t exactly been subtle. In fact, Spock had nailed all the ways Jim liked to be pursued. Jim blushed deep red. 

“Aw, hell, Spock,” he groaned, rubbing his face abashedly. “I’m so sorry. You did everything right and I was just too dumb to see it.”

Spock’s eyes softened. He reached across the table to offer Jim a hand. “You are not dumb, k’diwa,” he said gently. “Simply… focused.”

Jim chuckled and met Spock’s hand with his, fingertips playing over Spock’s palm and wrist. “You’re a charmer,” he smiled.

They were startled out of their reverie when their waiter cleared his throat loudly, glaring daggers at Spock. “I do not know what kind of establishment you think this is,” he began gruffly, but Jim pulled back and shot him his winningest smile.

“Oh, gosh, sorry,” he said innocently, “it’s just all these cultural differences, you know? That’s my bad though, don’t blame my date. Anyway I think we’re ready to order now.”

Spock pressed his lips together, keeping a smile hidden from the waiter who took their order with a huff and walked away quickly. Jim met Spock’s eyes and giggled. 

The rest of their date went by quickly - too quickly, now that Jim understood that it was, in fact, a date. When they left, Spock walked them to a nearby natural canyon upon which Shikhar had been built. Jim stared in amazement out at the mountains and deserts covered in reds and golds thanks to the sinking suns. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jim murmured. 

“I agree,” Spock said, looking at him. Jim laughed and reached out with two fingers, the way he’d seen Spock’s parents kiss before.

“Am I doing this right?” he asked.

Spock met his fingers, gently sliding them together. “Indeed,” he whispered. Jim leaned in closer, nuzzling his nose against Spock’s. 

“And this?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Spock leaned in the rest of the way, kissing him on the mouth. When Jim pulled back for air, he felt as dazed and happy as Spock looked. They smiled at each other and linked arms, walking back to the Enterprise.


End file.
